


Goal

by Starisia



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: First Person, M/M, Manga Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starisia/pseuds/Starisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'In that moment I didn't care if the scientist returned and caught us, didn't care about the consequences because no consequence could ever be horrible enough to make me regret THIS.' </p><p>Slight spoilers for chapter 212</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goal

I stared across the room at the gray skinned figure lying on the bed and the scrawny form sitting beside it, exactly where I wanted to be but I couldn't, not while the scientist I'd been traveling with was still sitting by his side.

He looked so peaceful and I longed to lie beside him and pull him into my arms, just as I often used to when he would fall asleep in my bed, too exhausted to return to his own, but the gray skin ruined the illusion, and I felt my hatred for the Noah rise more than I would have thought possible.

I felt useless, helpless, unable to protect the one I cared for most and it angered me to no end. He was mine, my moyashi, my Allen, every last inch of him belonged to me- _he_  belonged to me, just as I belonged to him and yet I couldn't destroy the one who threatened to tear us apart after we'd only just found each other again.

We'd been in the room for close to three hours and, with each tick of the pocket watch that my moyashi didn't stir, my frustration grew, more and more, until I could almost feel my blood boiling.

A soft voice sounded and I looked up to find Johnny still sitting beside my moyashi, mumbling something or other.

"Trying to wake him up again?" I asked, barely managing to keep my tone uninterested if not mildly annoyed.

We couldn't afford to have the order find out about us and, even if the scientist did care about my moyashi's safety he didn't seem like he'd be able to keep a secret like that. If we, somehow, managed to return to the order then we'd only be persecuted farther if they found out about  _us_ -that's why we'd only allowed Komui, Lenalee, and that damn  _Baka Usagi_  to know the truth-the last one was only because Moyashi blackmailed me into it, the damn sprout.

"Yep. We might as well try reading some of Cross' debt notices aloud," he said softly, the barest hint of amusement in his tone, but it was gone when he spoke again, "But I don't think this is any ordinary sleep. He might be fighting the 14th's memories."

I wasn't surprised at what he said; he more or less confirmed my own suspicions, the ones I had been trying to deny for quite a while now. I could recall Alma's words as clear as day and they sent a trill of dread through my system despite how hard I tried to push it away, ' _'the worst case-scenario of 'Allen Walker' disappearing, the probability of that… it's not non-existent.''_

"He's fighting. The battle's only begun, right Allen?"

I turned my gaze back to Johnny, my mind returning to the present once more to find him holding my moyashi's innocence hand. I felt a spark of jealousy race through me, a jealousy that I couldn't be in the frail looking scientist's place, but the next words that fell from his tongue made the emotion that much stronger, only for it to be tamed by the wave of gratitude that soon washed over me.

"It's here. Your goal is here. I'll keep calling for you! I'll be your signpost. Alright?"

I stared at him for a moment before comprehension dawned on me.

"Thank you," I said under my breath, head bowed as I stood as silently as possible. My bangs shadowed my eyes as I walked toward the door, not pausing until it was shut securely behind me. I took off down the street, hoping the cool air would somehow help to rid me of this feeling of helplessness that seemed to be hanging over me like a cloud.

I hated feeling week, unable to do anything to save the one I cared for most in this world. I should have been the one by his side, the one calling his name at the end of his 'goal', the one trying to pull him back and get him out of the clutches of that blasted Noah, but I couldn't be and the thought sent anger and jealousy coursing through my veins, so hot a single degree more would have been enough to melt my skin.

My moyashi was unconscious, fighting that bastard that resided in his mind, fighting the memories that threatened to swallow him, to devour him whole and steal him away from me, and, not only was I useless in his battle, unable to help in even the smallest way such as being by his side, but, I knew that if he lost his battle, if the Noah devoured him, I would be the one forced to take his life.

I wouldn't have a choice.

My mind wandered back to how our fucked up relationship began, almost wishing I could return it to those times.

Originally there had been no emotions behind our actions aside from frustration, anger, and the burning passion and heated battle for dominance had been provided by undiluted hatred, just a way to take pleasure from the existence of the one we despised most in this world, a way to see the bright side in the other living, I suppose, and a way to give us reason to care if the other survived another battle.

Teeth would clash and lips would bruise. Nails would dig ridges into skin and bites would mar flawless flesh. Movements were rushed and harsh, leaving bruises on both, and tongues would twine in a pointless battle for dominance-pointless, because I always won in the end.

It hadn't meant anything. It had been simple, animalistic, just a way to relieve some of the tension, no emotion involved whatsoever, only the pleasure and heat and the dominance I craved. We never embraced after, never kissed outside of the act itself. We would collapse to the dirtied sheets and face away from each other, only for one of us to leave as soon as their strength, at last, returned.

I don't know how things transformed but, overtime, things had changed. The frustration and anger had become a sheer desire for the other's touch, and the passion had become something more than hatred. Our selfish desires to  _take_  pleasure from the other became a wish to  _give_  the other the utmost pleasure that we were capable of.

Teeth had taken less precedence when lips met, the sting of nails digging into my back became less prominent, and the bites I left in my wake were no longer meant to draw blood or remind him of his place, but my mark, a sting I would sooth by licking the blood from the wound, a mark so that everyone who saw would know who he belonged to, would know that he'd been claimed. Our movements became smoother, gentler, bruising touches had become gentle caresses, and when tongues twined it was no longer a battle, no longer a competition where I would always dominate him, but a dance of mutual desire. Eventually the passion intensified to the point where neither could move after and he'd curl up against my chest while I'd wrap my arms around him and pull him closer where he could sleep soundly instead of pushing him away and telling him to get out.

At first I'd denied the emotions that slowly quelled my hatred, denied the ever growing  _attachment_  I felt toward him. I'd reminded myself that all he was was a tool of the order I hated, reminded myself that the Noah residing inside of him would eventually prove to be the downfall of the organization I despised with every fiber of my being, but eventually even I had to admit that I was lying to myself.

Despite the emotions I finally acknowledged I felt for him I hadn't intended to return after Alma fell. I had intended to live out what little remained of my life away from the constant battles, away from that prison and leash the order proved to be as far as I was concerned. I had every intention of never seeing my young lover again and I had known he was expecting just that. When our eyes had locked as he opened the gate, that had been our farewell and we'd both known it.

But I never expected for the memories of the 14th to haunt  _me_.

Memories of the way I'd betrayed him to the monster that resided in his heart.

I tried to tell myself that it made no difference, that he would have been overrun by the Noah regardless of what I'd done but I knew it was a lie. I was the one who awoke that monster and, even if I hadn't felt anything for him back then, it was my fault that my moyashi was fighting for his very existence, fighting to stay who he was, fighting to not be  _devoured_  piece by piece by that wretched Noah.

A sigh passed my lips as my mind returned to the present once more, the guilt and regret returning full force despite the way I tried to push it down, only growing stronger as I thought of him, gray skinned, lying in bed, deep in a slumber he may never wake from, fighting a battle he may not win.

I didn't know how long passed as I drowned in my thoughts, how long I spent letting the cool night air cares my skin in a useless attempt to calm me and relieve some of my stress, before I finally got my emotions under control and decided to return to the hotel, but I knew it must have been a couple hours or so.

When I returned my eyes instantly went to my moyashi. I didn't expect any real change so I didn't understand why my heart seemed to plummet when I saw that he didn't seem to have moved an inch.

My brow furrowed as I looked around, finding no sign of the scrawny scientist who was supposed to be beside him,  _'Tch, I thought you were his 'signpost' moron,_ ' I growled inwardly, a strange mixture of anger and satisfaction taking residence inside of me.

How dare that obnoxious brat abandon my moyashi's side when he was supposed to be the one pulling him back and helping him get away from the bastard of a Noah, helping him  _fight_?

I turned toward the door, ready to hunt that brat down and drag him back here, but, I made a mistake before I even reached it.

I looked back.

I tried to deny the way my chest tightened as I took in the sight and, although I hadn't noticed before, I thought he looked a bit worse than when I'd left earlier.

His gray skin seemed to have darkened a shade or two, his lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling at a too slow rhythm as he breathed.

I couldn't leave him alone when he was like this. As much as I hated to admit it I was actually  _weak_  when it came to the fucking sprout. I bit down on my lower lip, the coppery taste of my own blood dancing on my tongue, as I turned away from the door, choosing instead to take the scientist's abandoned seat.

I didn't do anything beyond just staring at him for a while, my eyes softening ever so slightly as I watched the rise and fall of his chest, though it was one thing I would never allow even him to see.

"Moyashi," I growled when a few minutes passed and I grew impatient with just sitting there staring at him, "Fuck, Moyashi, you're more trouble than your worth sometimes, ya know that?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in my seat. I didn't have any clue why I was bothering to talk to him when I knew he wouldn't answer me, but that fact only seemed to piss me off even more. I half expected him to crack a smile and call me by that 'nickname' he seemed to find so damn entertaining, despite how ticked it made me-actually that may have been why he found it so entertaining.

I swear, he never failed to find the best ways to piss me off, no matter how much I-how I felt for him, and I was pretty sure that's one of the reasons he did it.

I felt a small half smile tug at one side of my mouth, and didn't bother fighting it as my fingers twined with his seemingly of their own accord.

"Damn beansprout." I mumbled, mentally trying to deny the affection that seemed to lace my words, making my voice sound strange even to my own ears, but it was beginning to seem like a pointless endeavor-not to mention a total pain in the ass.

I prided myself on my unmatched control and yet I couldn't seem to make my feelings for him retreat and, what almost- _almost_ -frightened me was the fact that I wasn't even sure if I wanted them to, if I wanted to stop myself from caring about him.

Falling, that's what I was doing, I was falling, deeper and deeper into those silver pools that seemed to drag me in, and I was letting them because I no longer wished to fight how I felt for this angel-and that's what he was in my eyes.

That's what he'd so resembled when he'd burst from that akuma, his white cloak billowing around him, taking on the appearance of wings. Even in this state he still looked like a true warrior of the god I wasn't sure I believed in, with his hair fanned out around his head, so resembling a halo, feeling soft like downy feathers from a fledglings wings, his lips, so soft and plump, and I longed to press mine to them.

I blinked, reality crashing down on me like a wave of ice cold water. Sometime during my reverie I had moved from the chair, and was now hunched over the 'sleeping' form of my moyashi. My hands were planted on either side of his head to support my weight, my ponytail hanging over one shoulder so that the raven locks began to pool beside his head, a few of the tresses I let stay loose just brushing his cheeks. Our faces were mere inches apart, my breath making the snowy locks stir ever so slightly with each exhale, but still his expression didn't falter, not so much as a twitch of his eyelids or lips.

I knew I should have pulled away, should have gotten away from him in case that damn scientist returned, but I couldn't seem to make my body obey. Instead I balanced all my weight on one arm, and brushed a few downy strands out of his eyes, before cupping his cheek as gently as I could for fear of breaking him, my thumb tracing his lips, brow furrowing as I realized how cold they seemed to be.

I leaned closer, breathing in his intoxicating scent before lightly pressing my lips to his in a chaste kiss, so unlike how I'd kissed him before. I pulled back a moment later to stare down at him once more, a small smile tugging at my lips. I could taste him, a shadow of that addicting taste lingering on my lips, almost imperceptible but as familiar to me as the feel of my blade's hilt.

"Allen," I whispered, my thumb tracing one delicate eyelid, "You're goal is here isn't it? It shouldn't be too hard to reach. Are you really gonna keep us-keep  _me_  waiting? Are you really gonna let that bastard win?"

I leaned back in, pressing my lips lightly to his forehead but this time something made me still completely. A soft groan seemed to emanate from the form beneath me, but I knew that was impossible. It took a moment for me to regain some sense of self but when I did I stared down at him, trying to crush away the hope that was beginning to bloom in my chest, "Moyashi?"

I waited a moment but there was no response, and I let a small sigh escape only to freeze as another groan came from beneath me, this time accompanied by the sound of shifting cloth and the feel of weight shifting on the bed.

"The name's… 'Allen' BaKanda…" My eyes widened, disbelief becoming the only thing my thoughts seemed capable of as tired silver eyes flickered opened, an exhausted half smile coming to his lips as the gray slowly, oh so slowly, began to fade from his skin, "not that hard… you just said it…"

"Allen," I breathed, when my mind overcame my shock and utter disbelief. His smile widened and I cupped his cheek tighter, a smirk coming to my lips as I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his with more force than before, running my tongue along his full lower lip.

He didn't respond for a moment, his tired mind probably having trouble comprehending my actions, but after a few seconds I felt his arms slowly encircle my neck as his lips hesitantly parted for me, granting me entrance to the moist cavern and its addicting taste, and I wondered how I'd survived the past three months without it.

In that moment I didn't care if the scientist returned and caught us, didn't care about the consequences because no consequence could ever be horrible enough to make me regret  _this_ , and, judging by the way his hand tangled in my hair as his tongue twined with mine, he felt the same.


End file.
